


Taken From Me

by ImaRavenclaw



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Court, F/M, Funeral, Minor Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Mood Disorder, PTSD, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secrets, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Suicide, Teddy is an abusive dickface, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaRavenclaw/pseuds/ImaRavenclaw
Summary: The two Delacour-Weasley sisters have been suffering silently for years. With Victoire gone, Dominique feels helpless and alone. She doesn’t know how she will be able to fight and free herself from the person who took her sister from her. Will her family believe that someone so dear to their hearts could ever hurt their loved ones? Or will she crumble trying to get help?
Relationships: Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley
Kudos: 7





	Taken From Me

**This story contains mentions and some depictions of self-harm, sexual abuse/non-con, suicide, and domestic abuse. Please stop and do not read further if this would trigger you or make you uncomfortable in ANY WAY. If you need help or even just simply to talk to someone, please find a trusted person to confide in or call a hotline.**

* * *

I shift uncomfortably, feeling hot and out of place in the black dress. Normally I never dress formally and today I made the mistake of selecting a dress that was at least five inches too short. Everyone pours out of the room and out on the beach at Shell Cottage. They’re all here, all of my relatives. The only one who doesn’t give me a pitying look is Granna. Teddy Lupin rushes past, as immature as always, and tugs on the bottom of my dress. I pull my legs together and flinch away. 

“Come on Dom, what did you think I was gonna do?” He asks, towering over me. His blue eyes scan my face. Today his hair is dark brown, which I assume is respect for the dead. Or so I would hope. “Huh, what would I have done?” Taking one of his long fingers, he tips my chin upwards. I wish that someone were around so that I could escape more easily. His long arm is blocking my path from the crook in the wall of the entry to the door. I take a deep breath and tears form in my eyes. 

Slapping the hand that’s on my chin away I bitterly ask, “Do you always have to act like such a five-year old?” He bites his bottom lip and nods, then straightens his shirt collar and walks away. Huffing, I look around at everyone through the little window. Uncle Harry has his arm wrapped around a stoic but still weeping Aunt Ginny, while Aunt Hermione attempts to keep Hugo and Lily, my youngest cousins, in line. 

Granna has noticed that I haven’t yet left the cottage. She comes over to me and places an affectionate hand on my shoulder. She’s the only one who truly gets it, even though she’s never experienced something like this. There is a difference between seeing someone die and watching someone do it to themselves feeling like you can’t do anything to stop it. “Are you going to be alright, love?” I nod solemnly and walk with her towards the crystalline coast where we’re burying her body. When we get to the grave spot Granna keeps her arm firmly around my waist, letting me know that she’s there if I need her.

Halfway through the funeral I want to leave. I tried to hold it together, but when Daddy and Uncle Charlie lifted the fabric covered body and lowered it down gently into the grave I couldn’t take it anymore. A small piece of her hair had fallen out, painting a white line across the sea. I look at the baby blue fabric one last time before running off.

Granna is giving me a look of concern from across the beach but I ignore it and keep running back towards the cottage. _This is all your fault_ , says a voice inside of me. I shiver in pain as I clamber up the stairs to the rooms. When I get to mine I swing the door open and collapse onto the bed. Squirming out of the black dress and ripping my tights off I kick the covers up. When I’m down to my panties and my bra I slide into bed. 

“How’s the funeral going?” 

I growl and stuff my head under one of my pink silk and lace pillows. This has been happening since she left. “Dominique, I asked you a question.” 

“I”m not answering you.” I shout from underneath my pillow. She comes over and takes the pillow from me. “I know that you’re not real. You’re gone Victoire, so stop torturing me.”

“Aw, baby sis.” She’s so soft and affectionate. She sits down and strokes my hair. “You know that it was for the better.” 

I shoot up furiously. I see how dishevelled my hair looks in the mirror and I see that who I’m talking to isn’t there. Of course I know that, but I can’t stop talking to her. I need to conquer it in my head. “How can it be for the better if you’re gone? If I had to see it!” 

“Shhhhh,” coos the image of Victoire.

“Just leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough already? We miss you like fucking crazy. How could you be so selfish? Why didn’t you let me tell them? All Louis does since… All he does is sit staring at nothing. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep. I don’t want to lose my twin too.” 

“Teddy doesn’t care about him. You should be more worried about losing yourself. Please take care of yourself Dom. Don’t end up scared like me. I just felt like there was no other way to make it stop. I couldn’t suffer anymore.” 

“How did you do it for so long?” I whimper miserably. I wrap my fingers in the soft covers and drag them up to cover my body protectively.

Victoire shakes her head and gets up. “I didn’t. Why do you think we’re here?” She leaves the room, disappearing from the world completely. Her comment scares me. The words repeat and repeat like a broken record. Voices shout at me. The images are overtaking my brain. I do everything I can to push it all out, but everything is rushing in. The images flipping through. An old film rattling on forward on an abandoned projector screen. The toss of honey hair as the rough flesh of Teddy’s hand meets her face. The bathroom, lines of blood from her thighs just licking the surface of the tile. My feeble whimpers of, “Please talk to me” and “What can I do to help?” Resound in my ears.

I never had the strength to tell our parents even before he started hurting me too. It got worse when he ‘got greedy’ as Victoire said. She tried to protect me from her pain, but she was already so weak and far gone. He would sit at our dinner table, smiling at our parents and holding her hand. I hated him. I wanted to rip him apart limb from limb. I wanted to watch Dad punch him over and over for what he did to us. But they couldn’t see anything. They always wanted Victoire to be the glass doll. Beautiful and prefect, she felt pressured to pretend as if nothing was wrong. And sometimes nothing was. Sometimes he was a brother who played board games with us. A nice boyfriend who gave Victoire pretty gifts and showered her with affection. 

That was in the beginning. They were just out of Hogwarts when the stress of Teddy’s job took a turn for the worse. He’d always been angry. There had always been moments where he would hold her wrist a little too tightly or hit her in a moment that she surprised him unpleasantly. He would stay away a few days, then come back begging for an apology and sobbing. “I’ll never do it again. I was just so angry, but I promise that I never wanted to hurt you.” That lasted for a year, and every time we both fell for it. He was having a hard time, and his boss was a right shit. But we never anticipated how bad it would get.

Eventually, we stopped believing him and he abandoned his apologies all together. 

I hide under the covers, trying to forget every tear and cut Victoire ever bore. She never deserved to be treated this way. She deserved to feel safe enough to live. I didn’t deserve it all either. And yet we were scared. What if no one believed us? And worse, what would Teddy do?

Victoire kept saying that it could be worse. She was okay on her own back then. Whenever Teddy wasn’t in our house she could cope. We would talk through things with each other. At that point, his behaviour was nowhere near its peak.

I remember the night that it got so much worse. Mum and Dad had invited Teddy over for dinner and to come to the theatre with us. Part way through the meal, Victoire complained of an upset stomach. I knew what she was trying to do and it broke my heart that we couldn’t bring ourselves to tell. She had excused herself to her room, telling us to go along to the theatre without her and tell her all about it. Teddy offered to stay and take care of her.

“No no. You go Teddy, don’t miss it. It’s a good play.” Victoire had insisted. But Teddy was a more forceful negotiator. At the end of dinner Mum, Dad, Louis, and I left. My bones were sizzling. I didn’t want to leave her alone. I needed to be there.

When we got home, Teddy was gone. Everyone else got ready for bed but I ran up to Victoire’s room. I remember the loud thud the door made as it slammed against the wall. There was no one. I turned to the bathroom and said, “Alohomora.”

She was there, sitting in bloody water, sobbing silently. Her hand was pressed hard to her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds. I closed the door and ran over to her. “Vic!” I cried quietly. “Please, please tell me what happened.” I inspected the water trying to find the source of the blood. There were three dark lines on her ankle. I gasped, but tried not to make a scene. I had to be supportive. In that moment, I thought I could be strong. I resolved to talk to Victoire. Then I’d wait for her to dress and we’d march down to Mum and Dad’s room and explain everything. Teddy would be out of our lives for good and Victoire could get help.

But then she’d told me what he’d done. She shuddered in disgust and fear. It was nearly impossible for her to tell me, but she forced the words out, knowing that someone needed to know. “He came up…” She shivered in the bathwater. “I told… I told him to go away. Leave me alone. But he told me… He said that trying to avoid him couldn’t go, couldn’t go un… And he ripped my clothes off and told me not to make a sound.” 

“Vic.” Warm tears had flown down from my eyes and dripped off my chin. “Vic, we have to tell them.”

She shifted in the water, standing abruptly. “No,” she said forcefully. “No you can’t. You can’t tell them anything.” She commanded. By now she was sobbing again. “I’m so ashamed.”

I looked back down to the cuts on her ankle. Something, anything had to be done to make her pain stop. “Please Vic. Please let me tell them. I’m scared too but things will never stop until we get him away from us.” 

The memory floats away. I realize that I’m crying so I wipe my tears away. That’s when Teddy comes into my room. His footsteps give him away. I’ve learned to memorize them. Whenever I hear those steps I prepare for the worst. I’m in an airplane hurtling to the ground. He sits on the end of the pink bed. “Who are you hiding from up here?”

I don’t answer. He rips the covers back and pinches my leg hard. “You answer me when I speak to you.” He barks through gritted teeth. His hair turns deep red in anger. I rip my leg away from him by moving it to the side. Under normal circumstances I would try to run, or at least bring my legs in and wrap my arms around them. But I can’t escape him. If I try he’ll make it even worse. 

Hair fading back to brown he gives me a self-satisfied look. “It’s nice to know how much power I have over you.” His hand starts to creep up my thigh. All I want is to hit him and run out. But I can’t. Frozen in place, I let him touch me without so much as a flinch. He slides his hand underneath my lace knickers. The cold of his fingers shocks me. Smirking, he starts to move his hand. I’m sickened by my body for enjoying it, when I hate it. 

Victoire’s voice comes back to me. “You can’t let him do this Dom. You’ve always been the fighter.” 

She gives me strength. I can’t let Teddy get away with this anymore. I pretend to enjoy it. It’ll make him happy, he’ll lower his guard. Leaping forward I wrap my arms around him firmly. I can feel bile rising up in my throat as I kiss him but I swallow it down. I drag one of my hands down his body and, when he’s least expecting it, I bite his lip and hit him where it hurts. Over and over. My life depends on it. He rips his lips away from mine and cries in pain. 

I’m not very strong, but I’m hitting him in the weak spots and he’s clearly in a lot of pain. “Get out of my room! Get out of my house!” I scream. Everyone is still down at the beach. I wish they were downstairs so that my cousins and uncles would run up and help me beat him up. “You probably told them you were coming to check on me huh! That’s what you said, isn’t it?” He’s groaning under my blows, trying to crawl off the bed and way from. Finally, he looks to have had enough. I lean down to whisper in his ear. “You took her from me!” I spit and scream. Tears are flying down my cheeks and I’m shaking so hard. “You took my sister. So many years of our life.” 

He escapes me the way that I’ve always wanted to escape him. He runs out. I cry.

An hour or so later Dad comes up to check on me. His eyes are red from sobbing. He sits down in the spot where Teddy sat and puts his hand on my head. “Are you okay?”

I give him a look and he admits that it’s not exactly the right kind of question on a day like this. “I wish I had known what was going on. I wish I could have helped her.” He starts to cry again. “And she didn’t leave a note. Nothing.” I crawl up into his arms and he wraps his arms around me tightly. “Please Dom, if you ever need to talk to us, you know that you can tell us anything, right? You can. I know we haven’t been good about telling you, but we’re always here.” He says through his sobs.

Taking a deep breath, I gather all of my courage. “I know why she killed herself, Dad.” He pulls away from our hug and gives me an intense look. It’s concern, questions, anger, hopelessness. The words come out slowly. I have to push them out but at least they exist to someone more than Victoire and I now. “I, I never want to see Teddy again.” 

“What?” The look on his face is pure shock now. I don’t want to do this to him. He sees Teddy like a son. They use to go on hunting trips together. He loves Teddy. I don’t want to but I have to. If I don’t then I’ll keep suffering. If I don’t then Victoire’s death will never be avenged. So I tell him. I tell him everything. It’s hard and long but I force every word up my throat and out into the air. With every passing sentence, my father’s face grows angrier and angrier. 

By the time I’m done, the sun has set. It’s hard for him to hear. We never talked to date about periods are kisses, let alone someone raping us for years.

“That little bastard,” he says weakly. I can tell that he has a million questions but he takes a deep breath and starts with the most important one. “Dominique, how long has this been going on?”

This is so hard.

“He started hitting her when they were fifteen. I didn’t know back then, of course. She always wanted to keep us safe. Then things got bad. The… The… First night he made her have sex with him was that night she felt sick before the theatre. He never started to touch me until last year.” 

I cannot imagine how hard it is for my father to watch his seventeen year old child talk about her sister’s boyfriend raping her. Living it is impossible. It eats at you from the inside and all you want is for it to end, no matter how it has to be done. But for a father it can even be worse. Knowing that if you’d tried to reach out just a little more then it could have been prevented. I wish that _I_ could have prevented it. But if you don’t say something the first time it becomes too shameful. It festers like an uncleaned wound. I was always scared people would treat us like we were stupid for not coming to someone about Teddy sooner. But eventually Victoire preferred to die or suffer through it then have someone think we were cowards. When she finally did it, I found her. I tried to call for help but it was too late. 

There are more questions. There’s an ocean of them. Dad leaves the room to let me get dressed in something more comfortable. I agree for him to go downstairs to start to tell everyone, one by one. I try not to think about everyone’s faces: Uncle Charlie, Uncle Ron, Uncle George, Aunt Angelina, Aunt Hermione. Oh God, Teddy’s godfather is Uncle Harry.

I go down the stairs wearing a pair of sweats. Dad rushes to my side and wraps his arm around me for comfort and support. I catch a glimpse of the little cousins playing outside. Albus, Roxanne and Rose chase each other. Lucy is making sandcastles with Hugo and Lily. Molly is the same age as James but apparently Uncle Percy asked her to go stay outside when he heard the news. Freddy unfortuantely couldn't make it to the funeral. As soon as Louis sees me he comes directly to my side. “I’m here,” he says to me softly, taking my hand. 

They walk with my to the sitting area and everyone piles in. They’re all trying to give me space, but it’s as if they feel better crowding me. They’re putting bodies between me and Teddy, even though he’s long gone. 

Normally I wouldn’t have wanted everyone to be here. Having everyone know what has been going on for the past years is a lot all at the same time. But it’s not as if Teddy was just any boyfriend. He’s related in some way to every member of my family. If my goal is to get him out of my life for good then they all need to know.

At first it’s hard to meet their gazes. I especially can’t look at my parents. There’s also Aunt Hermione and Uncle Percy, who work in the law. All of my male relatives in general. But Uncle Harry is the hardest. I probably won’t be able to look him straight in the face for years. 

The worst part of it all is when they’re all wondering if Teddy ever hurt anyone else. Aunt Audrey looks mournfully at her girls, playing outside. They don’t even know how innocent they are. Dad looks at Louis across me. “I wish it was me instead of them, Dad. But no.” He says softly. There’s so much thunder in his voice. Louis gets angry too, but he’s the gentlest person I’ve ever met. He takes deep breaths, he walks away. I trust that he would never hit or threaten anyone. Except for Teddy of course, judging from the fire in his eyes. 

They all get to work. Everyone is now on the bandwagon. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Percy discuss the legal implications and everything surrounding having Teddy arrested and trialed in front of the Wizengamot. Uncle Harry’s already gone off to his office to alert the Ministry. Granna makes me a plate of food. Mum and Aunt Ginny give me the tightest hugs known to man, then take all the kids back to the Burrow. Ginny urges James to come, but he refuses. He’s staying right here, he says to her. He’s fifteen, the youngest one here. He shouldn’t have to know about this situation, but he’s being so strong for me. He and Louis don’t leave my side. Dad sits in the armchair by the fire, his eyes rotating from entry to entry like a guard dog.

I wish that we had known this would be the outcome. Victoire would still be here. Teddy has hurt me in so many ways, but nothing he has ever done will hurt more than the loss of Victoire. But he will go to Azkaban. He’ll rot away and I’ll never have to see him again. Maybe I’ll never get over the guilt of not having been stronger. But I have to keep telling myself that it’s not my fault. I have to believe my family when they keep repeating over and over again that I didn’t deserve it.

On the day of my testimony, Dad asks me if I’m sure I don’t want him in the room with me. I tell him that it’s okay. I have to be strong now. Anything to make up for my weakness before. They will convict him. Mum managed to find Victoire’s journal and Teddy confessed. Today is the day they put him away for good.

He’s sitting in his chair. It’s all over now. Even if he didn’t get sent to jail, he’s a broken man now. He’s just as weak as we once were. I took his strength for myself.

_You are strong. You are strong. You are strong. This isn’t your fault_. I repeat the words over and over to myself like a manta. When the judge hits his gavel I breath a sigh of relief.

Dad wants to get food and Mum thinks that we should take a trip to get away for a little bit. I tell them that all I want to do is go see Victoire.

They leave me at the grave, watching from a distance, still not wanting to leave me alone. Louis comes up and takes my hand. My parents leave us. As we look at the grave in silence, the waves hit the shore. The sky darkens. Finally, I find the words. The words I’d never thought I’d be able to say. I reach out to touch her gravestone.

“It’s over now. We’re free.”


End file.
